Charmed, I'm Sure, Dr Troy
by lanakael
Summary: NipTuckCharmed crossover, my first, so be gentle. Rated R for language. Dr. Christian Troy discovers another side of himself.


_Be gentle. This is my first cross-over fic and I'm just taking it where the Muses tell me to._

_FUCK_, but I hate paperwork! Isn't this Sean's job? I'm the Magic Man; he's the one who sees to the day-to-day details of our business. Oh sure, Sean helps me with the surgeries, but _I'm_ the one who really makes it happen. So why the hell am I stuck here today, fine day that it is, instead of out enjoying the weather and the scantily clad bodies this kind of day always brings out? I could be on my boat right now; having a brew and deciding which lovely lady is going to have the honor of gracing my bed tonight.

But no, I'm trapped in the office, no surgeries scheduled, while Sean deals with more of Julia's bullshit. _Julia_. Her name once sent a hot bolt of longing straight to my dick. Wasn't that long ago, either. But then all the problems with Julia and Sean's marriage started, _then_ I find out that Sean's son, Matt, is actually _my_ boy, the result of a one-nighter with Julia years ago. That damn near put an end to Sean's and my friendship. Things are still pretty rough, but I think they're going to work out fine in the end. I'm finding that I still care for Julia, but it'll never happen. She'll always be Sean's lady. And I'm not even sure I want it to happen, anyway; Julia's been a fantasy of mine for so long now that I'm pretty damn sure the reality would pretty much suck.

So here I am, looking over case files, or at least I think I am. I'm not really paying attention to the neatly typed papers in front of me. I'm looking over..._whatever_...when something compels me to look up. I do, and I see a man, mid-30's, most likely, gazing at me. His sudden appearance shocks a startled exclamation from me before I recover. I never even heard the door open. It's like he just, like he just..._appeared_...out of nowhere. I'm still thinking this over when the man speaks.

"Mighty Balthazar, at last we've found You," he intones. Deep, gravelly voice. I'm still staring at him, trying to figure out how he got in here unannounced, when something he said hits me. Balthazar? _Mighty_ Balthazar? Who the FUCK is "Mighty Balthazar"??

"Excuse me?" Okay, must be some crackhead; our city's covered with them. But the man's manner, his speech, suggests otherwise. He has a look of sharp clarity about him, which rules out my second guess, him needing a doctor but finding the wrong kind of doctor, if you catch my meaning. "There's no Balthazar here."

His face instantly turns red and he actually drops to one knee, lowering his head. "Forgive me, I mustn't call You by that name here. I'm glad to have found You at last, Cole."

_Who?!?_

I try to be gentle with him, it's obvious that whatever's wrong with him, he's pretty convinced. "There's nobody here by that name either, I'm afraid. Which office are you looking for? Maybe I can help you."

The man seems agitated now. He gets to his feet, giving me an odd look. "Mighty One, there's no need for this pretense now; no humans are within earshot to overhear our conversation. The rout in the Underworld has, at last, been put to rest and it is safe for You to return and take Your rightful place as the Source. Come with me now, many preparations are underway. We can even plot to regain Your Queen Wife," he put his fist to his chest and dropped to his knee again. "if You give the word, my Liege. There are none now to challenge You."

What the _fuck_?!? My patience is wearing really thin. "Look pal, I don't know what shit you're on, but I'll give you a piece of advice. You're pretty well dressed so I'll asume you've got some money; don't buy the cheap shit anymore. Whatever you decide to put up your nose," I shrugged, "or in your arm, whatever, make sure it's top drawer next time. That way you won't go around town raving in front of people who don't have time for it. Now I suggest you leave, _right fucking now_, or I'll call the cops and see what they have to say about you and your _Balthazar_. And your Cole. Whatever."

I'm glaring at him by this time, but now he's glaring at me, too. He gets to his feet yet again and stalks over to my desk, pointing at me. Something in his stride seems familiar, but I can't put a finger on what it is or why.

"Why do you play this game? Even with no leader to guide them, for once the Underworld is united in its goals. All we await is one powerful enough to take the helm again. That man is You, Balthazar. At Your bidding, we are even ready to take on the Charmed Ones again, and this time I know we can beat them. The time is right! Leave these petty human intrigues you play at and regain Your throne!"

Now I'm truly, divinely pissed. I push back from my chair and shout at the man. "What the hell is your problem, you screwed-up dick? I am NOT this damn Balthazar you keep talking about. I'm Christian, Christian _Troy_!! Now get out before I fucking THROW you out!" I start around the desk, intending to do just that, when I see something that stops me dead in my tracks. The man had backed off when I stood up, and he waved his left hand. Now, sitting in that hand, plain as day, is a ball of red light. If I didn't know any better I'd think it was a--a--now what's that word when they use it on television? Oh yeah, a _fireball_.

Fuck.

"Do not think I'm not prepared to protect myself," the man's rumbling at me now. He lifts his hand and I know I should run, dive behind my desk, scream for help, duck, SOMEthing, but I'm frozen to the spot. I can't friggin move. And where is Liz? Good God, did he kill her with one of those _fireballs_? I can't bear the thought. I may not have too much liking for Liz, especially not after she went and aborted my kid, but I don't think I could stand it if she's out in the front room right now, gasping out her last, charbroiled death. Ugh, bad thought. Guess we won't be having any steaks any time soon, with that thought running riot in my head.

Why the hell am I thinking about steaks at a time like this?

"Low, human scum," he's saying to me now. Hell, I know I am, did I really need this reject from a fairy tale telling me this? What's the point? "You ran from Your duties as You always do, trying to hard to coddle Your precious human side. You. Are. Evil. Get used to it, Balthazar. Your witch is gone from You. She will never again return to Your embrace. Accept that fact, leave these loathsome human trappings behind and come with us willingly," he waves his free hand; several more "men" appear at his side, all hefting those God-awful fireballs. "or be prepared to be taken by force, if needed. We will not be without our ruler!"

Something, several tiny somethings, click into place. I still can't absorb it though. All I know now is that I'm fighting for my life. My brain tells my body to turn, dive for the window and the scant possibility of safety out there; my body does something totally, shockingly different. Before I can form a coherent thought, I feel through me, hot yet sweet at the same time. My arm lifts, I see a flash of heat and color. Then, all of a sudden, I've got _my own fireball_, right here in my fucking hand! and it's flying from me now, hitting the first man square in the chest. He squeals in pain as his body erupts in flames, then he's no more. I'm scared shitless now, not knowing what to do. But my body knows, oh yes, that it does. I feel myself stand proudly, holding my ground, even as I hear my anguished voice cry out desperately _I. Am. **NOT. BALTHAZAR**_!!!

The other "men" instantly "extenguish" their own fireballs, dropping to their knees as one babbles, "Of course, Mighty One. Forgive us and let us live to serve in whatever capacity You choose."

"**_GET OUT_**!!" I hear myself roar, and, without getting up, the men shimmy out of sight. Gone. Without a trace. Just like that. Sobbing, I look at my hand, the hand that threw the fireball, and my brain is screaming GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT just like I shouted to those monsters, but instead my body leads me to my office chair and I collapse into it in a fit of tears. I'm just sitting there, sobbing and shaking and I put my head into my hands and for an eternity, it seems, it's just me and the sound of my own cries.

Moments--or was it lifetimes?--later, I hear a sound and realize that I must've dozed off. Of _course_! It was all just a dream. A crazy, stupid dream brought on by one too many tequilla shooters and not enough food when I was at Helio's for lunch earlier today. All that heavy food on my stomach, but not enough to drown out the alcohol. I simply fell asleep and had that crazy ass dream. I lift my head to tell Liz--it had to be her, it just had to be her entering the room--that I was sorry for yelling out in my sleep and scaring her. But it wasn't Liz, no, not all all Liz.

The woman standing in front of me is beautiful, at once familiar although I'm positive I've never seen her before. Her skin is smooth and brown, large, liquid brown eyes gaze almost serenely at me. Her curly hair is tied on top of her head and I'm sure her body's as exquisite as her face although it's hidden behind a massive robe? cloak?? of brown wool. _Maybe her bod's not that hot after all, _I think crazily, _if she's all wrapped up like that._ Of course, a patient. One who's so unhappy with her body that she has to hide her figure in that severe wrap. "May I help you?" I ask cheerfully. Now this I know. Business as usual.

"Yes, You may, Mighty One," she says in a voice that's as liquid and silky as her face and eyes. The words don't register at first. I'm still tripping on her voice, wondering how she'd sound in bed. If she'd sound that throaty and velvet screaming out my name as I fucked her as if my life depended on it. My dick twiches the tinest bit in anticipation before her words sink in, then it shrivels up in a tiny, confused knot between my thighs. Amazing the things you notice when you're having the shit scared out of you. My fear turns to anger and I shoot out of my chair again, rage taking over me and that hot, sweet feeling takes over again.

She backs away quickly, holding out her hands. "My Lord, I didn't mean to anger You. Only look and You'll see what You're mean to see. What You're meant to _be_." She gestures toward the mirror and suddenly I'm afraid again, more afraid than I've ever been in my...life? I start to shake my head and she laughs, that low, throaty laughter that moments ago would've had me wrapped in the thralls of an erotic daydream but now only instills fear and anger and a sense of something, something that's on the tip of my tongue, pushing at the back of my brain but has yet to be given reason or voice.

"Mighty Balthazar, destroyer of all that is Good. Mighty Cole, Doctor _Christian Troy_," she spits out my name disgustedly, defiantly. "after reconstructing the visage of so many unfortunates, yet so afraid to view His own?" Her laughter again, throaty, mocking, and suddenly the mirror is in my hand. I don't want to look, Lord God, please let it be a dream, I don't want to look yet my eyes are irresistably drawn down. I see first my hand, larger than I've ever remembered, and colored black and red. It feels right. I don't want to look but I do. The face that stares at me is familiar also and I throw back my head and let out a full-bodied scream of rage. It, too, is different from any voice I remember of myself yet too, it feels right. And so many things, all the little things, click into place now. I know who I am, and what I must do. The name _Phoebe_ settles into my brain and I experience a rush of rememberance, of hunger. I remember everything.

"Yes," she purrs, and inclines her head, dropping to one knee. "I live to serve, as always. Welcome back, Mighty Balthazar."


End file.
